[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 15 December 2024].
dog daisy afternoon
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 28 September 2024].
I promise you, I've been taking more photos than you can poke a stick at.
However, I haven't had a chance to edit anything for weeks, so I'm sharing this photograph from the same client's garden I shared my last two from, edited about 20 days ago.
As I highlighted in a previous post, I had a weekend with my regulars from 6-10 September.
I had a delightful three-night stay (and lots of cheese with ash and flowers!) (that doesn't sound so appetising when I type it out) from 12-15 September on the Isle of Portland in Dorset with my fellow photographer and friend, Phil.
And I spent the better part of last week playing tour guide to Dad and Cheryl while they were in London.
I can't complain about any of it.
That's not to say - for reasons I won't go into here and now - that it's all been smooth sailing and that I'm not physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted. I am.
Between Dad and Cheryl's continuing travels, trying to find a new flatmate and three sittings in October, I don't think my stress levels will drop much.
Despite that, I hope to share photos that aren't flowers with you from my recent travels very soon, some other creative outputs, and maybe even catch up on some sleep.
We'll see.
I hope you're all staying well, hugging those you love and doing what you love as much as possible.
These beauties are Leucanthemum vulgare, also known as ox-eye daisy, dog daisy and marguerite.
As with many of the flowers I've been drawn to photograph, dog daisies are deemed an invasive species in many places, including my native country.
However, ox-eye daisies are widely recognised as the national flower in Denmark, and apparently, "the unopened flower buds can be marinated and used in a similar way to capers". Mmm... capers.
Cows don't fancy eating them, though. And those that do "produce milk with an undesirable flavour".
crocosmia
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 27 August 2024].
It's been a hectic couple of months.
I've barely been home since the afternoon of Thursday, 4 July.
I pulled an all-nighter with a friend of over 24 years and a friend of fewer than 12 hours to watch the Tories finally thrown out of government after 14 years.
The following day, I went to sit my regulars in Bromley.
On the afternoon of 9 July, I went home for a night, with some back and forth and final prep for a sitting with new clients, Crikey (Cockapoo), Lottie (Staffy Shitzu cross), Dexter (tuxedo cat), Sammy (tabby cat) and Rebecca (fish) starting the following afternoon.
They were a delight, as was Julia's garden, where I photographed this crocosmia.
I managed to give myself food poisoning from eating black beans too long after opening, which wiped me out for a good nine hours or so the night before the sitting ended. I haven't had stomach cramps that bad since I was a tween, and I hope I never do again.
I had two nights at home before spending about a week and a half with my arch nemesis, Mia (tabby cat), in Crofton Park. She's mellowed somewhat with age (she's three now), but she's still very standoffish and swipey with everyone except her cat-mother.
I finally managed to ogle and photograph the exterior of houses at Segal Close and Walters Way, though I'm sorry to find that homes in Walters Way will be open this year as part of Open House London on a day I'm not in London.
I had another couple of nights at home before sitting my favourite, very good boy, Frank (Cockapoo), for about a week and a half.
Whilst sitting him, I managed to completely miss a step with my foot between the bedroom and bathroom and take two steps simultaneously with my lower left back, just above my hip, and my left shoulder.
Thankfully, applying ice and going back to bed for a couple of hours with Frank as my nursemaid, followed by a dose of ibuprofen, meant I minimised the bruising, and we could still go out for our morning walk.
The next day was less successful, as I woke with a sore neck, bruised shoulder and a dull headache and couldn't take Frank out. We did manage a sedate afternoon walk once the painkillers had taken the edge off and allowed me to move my left arm more freely.
The following day - a previously planned day of annual leave - my injuries had improved, and I could take Frank with me to meet Scott at the Railway Fields Nature Reserve by Harringay Green Lanes Overground Station as planned.
Frank was ecstatic to have a short bus journey, make a new friend, explore a new green space (albeit on a lead), take a short train journey, and spend a little time at the Great Northern Railway Tavern whilst Scott and I had a couple of pints and a long natter, some of which about the Welsh language I've been learning.
I went straight from sitting Frank to my regulars plus one.
The new addition, a hamster called Karl-Heinz (Charlie, for short), is very cute and amicable but keen on chewing at the bars of his cage. As he's nocturnal (like me), and his cage is quite close to where I sit to work and do creative things while I sit my regulars, I found this quite stressful, but his hamster-mother is pursuing avenues to make him more comfortable in his home (or rather, mansion).
I had another night at home before heading up to Bishop's Stortford, where I am now, to sit Betsy (Cockapoo) and Dudley (Maltipoo). Both are very good-natured and sweet puppers, but Dudley was a lockdown pup and has related issues, which means he's very reactive to other dogs and...well, everything.
But we've managed two weeks together and have another to go, and I love the snuggles we have, the fact they love sleep as much as I do (when I finally do go to bed), and their little quirks (just maybe with less barking ;) ).
My friend, Khanisa, also enjoyed meeting them, and we managed an enjoyable in-person catch-up on Saturday despite the persistent rain. I had a positive virtual catch-up with Dad in the wee hours yesterday morning and a good telephone catch-up with Phil yesterday evening.
This afternoon, on our last Bank Holiday before Christmas and after almost two weeks in the town, I managed to get out and about with my camera for a photo walk from where I'm sitting the pups, down along the town's edge to Castle Park (the remains of Waytemore Castle), along the Stort Navigation (the canalised section of the River Stort that runs through town), then back through town via the supermarket.
I'll share at least one photo from my walk with you in the next couple of days; all going to plan.
I head home next Tuesday. I have three nights at home before I head down to stay with my regulars.
Then, I'll have two nights at home before heading to the Isle of Portland in Dorset for a long weekend of photography with Phil. We've found a lovely Airbnb on the island to use as a base, and it promises to be a great place to explore with our cameras.
Dad and Cheryl arrive the following week, so I'll be playing tour guide with them and sightseeing around London.
I have a week of 'downtime' (or at least time without sittings or visitors) at the end of September, then three sittings in October before things quiet down a bit more in the lead-up to Christmas.
In amongst all that, I have to do a thorough clean of my flat (with my current flatmate's help), try to downsize my stuff (in progress and tougher than it seems), find a new flatmate, and try to catch up on photo editing and other creative outputs (I had hoped the bank holiday weekend would have helped with the latter, but I had to prioritise cleaning dog puke out of bedding and some other bits yesterday).
On the positive side, the first Friday I was with Frank, a neighbour offered an early 2015 Macbook Air for free to anyone who might want it and could reinstall the OS to make use of it. I saw the post immediately after shared and nabbed it for myself.
It's a little slow, can't run the latest versions of everything, can't run InDesign, and it's only a 13" model. But it can run most things to the level I need when away, and most importantly, it can connect with my primary external drive, so it's been perfect for three weeks away from home where it's completely impractical (specifically, due to expense) to bring my iMac.
Hopefully, it'll serve my purpose for six to twelve months. And I think it's demonstrated to me so far that - as long as I'm just looking for a portable machine, not a replacement for my iMac - a MacBook Air (vs a Macbook Pro) is a practical option to take away alongside my work laptop.
Thanks, as always, for sticking around through this slow period here (because of my busy period outside Patreon) x
in the arcade
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 2 July 2024].
In May 2012, I flew to Budapest to meet with my parents, who were travelling through Europe.
We stayed in a small hotel, the Leo Panzió, on Ferenciek tere, near the metro station of the same name, not far from Erzsébet híd (Elizabeth Bridge).
On our first full day exploring the city, we started out slowly, each capturing the street and architecture near our hotel with our cameras.
Soon after venturing out, a fellow approached my dad, seeing the three of us with our cameras in hand and furiously snapping away.
I still don't know if the fellow was homeless or just a random passerby. I didn't speak to him much myself until the end of our 'tour' and, as we followed him into the building, I won't lie: alarm bells were quietly going off in my head for us as three non-Hungarian tourists, including two women, following some random guy into a building.
Maybe it was all my parents' teachings about "stranger danger" coming up from childhood, the knowledge that many tourists are scammed while travelling, or simply being a woman and aware that following strange men into unfamiliar places is not recommended.
Nevertheless, my dad was less cautious. And I will always be thankful for his trust in this fellow and what the fellow showed us that we would otherwise likely never have discovered.
We had been photographing the exterior of what had been known as Brudern-ház (Brudern House). It was rebuilt as the headquarters of the Belvárosi Takarékpénztár (the Downtown Savings Bank) starting in 1909 and contains the Párizsi udvar ('Parisi udvar' according to the signage on the building).
Google translates 'Párisi udvar' to 'Parisian courtyard', but 'Párizsi udvar' translates to 'Paris Court' and seems more commonly used. Based on the place and information from Wikipedia, the arcade was modelled on Parisian arcades, specifically, the Passage des Panoramas, and it incorporates Indian, Islamic and Moorish elements.
The building's architect, Henrik Schmahl, died in 1912 while undergoing intestinal surgery before the building's completion. Pál Lipták, the building's construction manager, oversaw the completion of the building.
When we followed the fellow through the fancy entrance with MCMIX written above it, we found ourselves in a mostly vacant, partially derelict but extravagantly beautiful former shopping arcade.
Signage told us the arcade used to house a store selling fine carpets. Another store sold leather goods, and another sold gold jewellery.
However, in May 2012, the arcade housed very little for sale.
It did, however, house a grand interior replete with lifts, telephone booths, ornate staircases, a magnificent ceiling, mosaic flooring, and classic shopfronts facing into the arcade and onto the street.
There were broken glass panels and some graffiti, but most of the arcade still seemed to be in a relatively good state. Little visible to us appeared to be unsafe.
The blue modern payphones were incongruous in their booths. But time had marched on in Budapest, and time had since continued its forward march beyond the usefulness of public telephones with the prevalence of mobile phones.
Despite still feeling a little nervous about whether we had walked into a trap for tourists, I snapped away in every direction, in thrall with my surroundings.
After we had seen and photographed our fill and my dad had tipped our impromptu tour guide for his advice, we moved on. But the place stayed in my mind.
So much so that, a couple of years later, watching an episode of Penny Dreadful, I was overcome by déja vu as Vanessa Ives entered a shop in an arcade. It took me mere moments to realise where the scene was filmed.
It was lovely to see the arcade appear lovingly restored and close to the appropriate period (the opening narrative of Penny Dreadful takes place in 1891, and the building was completed in 1913).
Over the years, I've spoken with friends about it and discussed the place and the circumstances of our visit there with my dad.
A while back, I went to seek the building out on Google Street View and discovered the building had been restored and is now a five-star Hyatt hotel.
As much as perhaps that isn't my ideal outcome for its restoration, they've retained much of the arcade's glory in the refurbishment, and I'm pleased to see it's found a new lease on life.
Despite knowing the arcade's name for all this time, I only translated it as part of composing this post. In doing so, I was reminded of the writings of a German philosopher, Walter Benjamin, about Parisian arcades, Arcades Project, which I read about in a book titled Psychogeography that my friend, Phil, gifted me.
I thought it interesting that Henrik Schmahl, a German-born architect living in Hungary, decided to 'import' a Parisian arcade to Budapest.
Hopefully, one day, I'll return to Budapest to lounge in the hotel foyer with a cocktail and admire the work done to restore a gorgeous interior.
Perhaps one day, I'll also have the funds to stay in one of the rooms in the hotel to get the complete experience.
Either way, it was a highly fortuitous and unforgettable experience during our holiday.
I thank whoever that fellow was who saw us and wanted to share his knowledge of his city with us avid photographers. I will forever be grateful that, despite my initial reservations, my dad followed a random man into a seemingly abandoned building. I hope that fellow will understand and forgive my hesitation.
to a beloved | qui riposa
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 18 June 2024].
dog rose
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 15 June 2024].
I captured this rosa canina, commonly known as dog rose, and bearing the fruit, rose hip (though not fruiting when I photographed it) on my walk past Grove Park Nature Reserve to Hither Green Cemetery earlier in the month.
There are various theories for the origins of the plant's name. As you might imagine, my favoured one (though likely not scientifically proven) is that the plant can cure the bite of a mad or rabid dog.
As with many flowers and plants, it's the county flower in one country (Hampshire, England) and an invasive weed in others (NZ and Australia).
But it is pretty.
haunted by ghosts it is easy to become a ghost
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 4 May 2024].
let me hold your heart like a flower
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 17 April 2024].
radio city 96.7
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 2 May 2024].
I visited Liverpool from Sunday to Tuesday to support an event for my day job on Sunday and Monday.
I took advantage of my day off in lieu earned through that to stay an extra day in the city to see more of it.
The one time I visited the city for an extended period was on New Year's Eve 1999 for Cream 2000.
However, my time there during that visit was predominantly spent in a tent designed to accommodate 26,000 ravers, where the focus was music, dancing and welcoming in the new millennium, not the city itself.
I wrote a short piece about that visit on my Instagram earlier in the week when I posted a photo of Pier Head I took with my phone camera on Tuesday during my two-ish hour photo walk.
I snuck a short photowalk in on Sunday evening en route to get supplies from a supermarket. But, both that walk and the one on Tuesday predominantly focused on the waterfront area, with my walk on Tuesday extending into Matthew Street (where The Cavern Club is) and up to Lime Street, from where I caught the train back to London.
Unfortunately, due to the weight of my rucksack, I didn't manage to revisit places I'd passed that caught my eye en route to my accommodation on Sunday with my D700.
I could have left my bag behind reception in my accommodation after checkout and returned for it. But the hotel was about a 23-minute walk from the station, so it would have involved me walking there and back to retrieve it on top of my photo walk when my intended route took me close to the station anyway.
Liverpool is, understandably, littered with tributes to the Fab Four, The Beatles. And, while I have some photos from my visit that relate to them that I'm pleased with and will share in future, I wanted to avoid the Liverpool cliches for my first post of one of my D700 photos from the city.
So, instead, here's a music-related photograph of St Johns Beacon, the former revolving restaurant that became the home of Radio City 96.7 in July 2000.
Radio City's stations rebranded to Hits Radio on my birthday this year. Unfortunately, they've announced they'll rebrand the tower with their new logo, which I don't think will work as well on a structure of that era, so I'm glad I captured it when I did.
I hope to arrange to sit Sir Peter and his peacock friends in Delamere again for a longer stretch. If I can, I'll take advantage of the proximity to pop over to Liverpool again for a day or two or three to explore more of the city with my camera and to visit Tate Liverpool, the Open Eye Gallery, the various museums along the waterfront and more.
of gorse
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 March 2024].
pay here
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 6 March 2024].
prunus cerasifera
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 1 March 2024].
Some Prunus cerasifera flowers I captured last Saturday during a solo photo walk in Hitchin.
Spring is coming.
owt wet
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 27 February 2024].
a year later... or thereabouts.
So, it's been a year since Mum passed. Well, kind of.
I mean, she died at 06:10 on 1 March 2023 AEDT, but for me, that means her time of death was actually 19:10 GMT on 28 February 2023.
So, for me, that should mean the anniversary of her passing was on 28 February 2024.
Except that this year is a leap year, so 06:10 AEDT on 1 March 2024 was 19:10 GMT on 29 February 2024.
Confused yet?
If I base the anniversary on the date she passed away in Australia (as that's where she was), then I'm posting this late. But it's still only 1 March 2024 here in London, so I guess I get longer to mark the anniversary.
Has anyone noticed I possess a certain sentimentality and a penchant for marking such important dates at precisely the right moment?
Though I didn't have a chance to post about it at either of the potentially recognised moments, it's been on my mind for some time, particularly during the evening on 28 February when it felt like I should acknowledge the passing of a year since her death.
Dad and I acknowledged the anniversary within the hour of her passing on 1 March 2024, his time, in our family WhatsApp chat.
Yesterday afternoon, a little before and a little after my day's sitting with Francois ended, and before I left for my first sitting of the year with my regulars, I edited these two photos to share with this post acknowledging the anniversary.
Although I don't think she had any particular preference for daffodils (I don't remember them appearing often within bouquets she bought or received), her death will now be inextricably linked to them in my mind because of her passing on St David's Day and, in particular, because of her Welsh ancestry.
So, I was already thinking ahead to today when I photographed these two specimens in Frank's backyard the last weekend I sat him in mid-February. Knowing there would be photographs of daffodils as part of my tribute to her this year, as I have access to very few photos of her, and most I've already shared. While thinking ahead to the date and time conundrum as the impact of this leap year had already occurred to me by then.
One thing I didn't get to do while I was visiting Dad was to pore over their photo albums. Two weeks isn't a long time when you're working part-time, sorting through your deceased mother's personal effects and catching up with family you haven't seen in person in about three years.
I didn't know how I would feel one year on. If I'm honest, I still don't.
I mean, there's definitely been a sea of emotions surging around me for the past week or so.
I initially hoped to write my thoughts on the "exact" anniversary (for me). But practical matters had to be dealt with. So, instead, I sort of softly welled up thinking about it without having the time or capacity to put the feelings into words. But knowing I would when I could.
I know it's cliched to say it feels like less than a year, but in the same breath, to say it feels more than a year. But it does.
It's been less than a year since we said goodbye as a family and scattered her ashes.
It's been more than a year since she and I last spoke. Or rather, I spoke to her, as she didn't have many words left by then.
So, the passing of time since her passing has been warped and bent. Though that's not uncommon. I know others feel similarly about the passing of their loved ones, even without the added confusion of leap years interfering with their marking of time.
I wrote a lot about her last year. And I don't doubt I will write more in time. I took photos while visiting my family in Australia that triggered memories, anecdotes, and so forth that I hope to capture in words. Some I'll capture for myself. Others I'll share.
In the meantime, as Spring drags its feet returning to England, the daffodils rush in and bloom on the verges and traffic islands, in suburban gardens, central London parks, cemeteries, the local supermarket, the vase in the entry to our building placed there by my Welsh neighbour who lives downstairs. And in my mind.
For Mum. In her memory.
mary the beloved
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 January 2024].
Hello, my lovelies.
It's been a while since I wrote you a rambling, diary-like post and for that, I'm sorry. (Though you may not be ;) )
Things have been busy with me, so many times I have time to edit a photo or four, but it's been a while since I've been able to sit down and write creatively or even just to write to give you an update.
The obvious exception is my end-of-year post. And, looking back, it seems it's been about a month since I wrote something more than a cursory caption about what I'm sharing.
I've been at home more the past few months. Post-summer, pet sittings dropped off, which was welcome. As much as I love all the kittehs and doggos I sit, it was nice to be more settled for a time.
While the homes I sit pets in are always like a home away from home (and the pet parents always make me feel welcome in their homes), I still live out of a suitcase, and I don't always have access to my raw photographs for editing and/or an acceptable screen to edit photos on.
I finally had some paid annual leave in November. I intended it to be a staycation*, but I put the word out to a couple of photographer friends and some family, and suddenly, I had three photo walks in my lap, two nights away, and a day trip out of town. My plans for cleaning, decluttering and downsizing went out the window quite quickly. I'm not unhappy about that, but it means those tasks are still on my to-do list as I write this.
Since then, my day-job brain has been addled and exhausted by piecing together functionality created long before I joined the organisation and trying to mesh that with new functionality to ensure what our web agency has created is fit for purpose. It's a challenge (which I usually love) but has often left me feeling like I've pulled that loose thread on an item of clothing, and I wish I hadn't.
The new year has started on a positive note.
There was a day trip to meet a friend in Milton Keynes. A weekend in Bishop's Stortford, reuniting with a former landlady and her family and meeting two sweet doggos I'll sit in summer - a Maltipoo called Dudley and a Cockapoo called Betsy. And (what is now) yesterday, meeting a sweet but flatulent, snorting French bulldog called Francois (naturally), who lives locally and whom I'll be sitting semi-regularly over the coming months.
I'm somewhat wary of speaking out loud about my travel plans for the first quarter of the year, given my previous travel plans fell through for reasons beyond my control.
But I've booked (free(!) first-class return) tickets using the vouchers reissued last January (and a bonus one that snuck into my inbox!), and my manager has signed off my annual leave.
I still need to book my accommodation, which I'm a bit nervous my bank balance will struggle with, but I plan to visit Llandudno in Wales for a week in early to mid-March. Manchester for a long weekend in late March. And Glasgow for four days in early April.
I booked my tickets at the eleventh hour before my vouchers expired. I could only book as far ahead as early April, so it's all a bit hectic over the next few months between my travels, work and pet-sitting, which will start to pick up again from next weekend.
I'm looking forward to returning to north Wales, a bit further along the Avanti West Coast network than Wrexham, where I travelled to and on to Minera in late October 2021 to sit Meg and Mog for Jo and Becky in the old vicarage. I'm hoping to see more of Wales generally in future, especially returning to the south where Mum's family came from and where I haven't visited since Christmas 1991.
It will be my first visit to Edinburgh's "lesser" sister, Glasgow, but I'm looking forward to the Necropolis and exploring the city and its museums, galleries and botanical gardens.
It will be a return to Manchester, where I've visited at least three times. It seemed a sufficiently substantial distance to justify a first-class ticket but a short enough journey for a long weekend (and, as I've been there before if I have to sacrifice one of the trips due to my finances not covering accommodation, I can live with that).
I thought about visiting Liverpool, which I think I've only driven through. But nothing drew me to Tate Liverpool during the dates I was looking at, and I hoped to catch up with a friend while in Manchester (though we'll see if that will still come to pass).
So, with Wales on my mind and recent fruit and flower photographs captured in Jo and Becky's backyard in their current home in Cotton End, I thought I'd share some more photos from St Mary's Church in Minera in October 2021. I have so many I still need to edit and share, including some more puffball photos to come in a few weeks.
The light after the rain was just delicious and so wonderful for me to experience and capture the graves in the churchyard.
It was a magical Monday morning. If only all my Monday mornings started with such beautiful, inspiring, contemplative and creative visions and experiences. Followed by exploring a new place (or even a familiar place is welcome), some exercise in the fresh air (a mixture of strenuous and gentle), a refreshing pint of cider in a welcoming pub at the end of a productive day, cheese, and cuddles with a kitteh or a doggo.
I'd almost** become a morning person for that shit ;)
So, that's where I'm up to as we close in on the end of January (seriously?! Already?!)
What are you guys looking forward to this year? I'd love you to tell me in the comments x
* My definition of a staycation is a holiday when you stay at home, doing things locally and maybe doing some DIY or just hanging out and reading books. But it's become recognised as holidaying in your home country instead of abroad.
** I'm not fooling anyone, am I? But I'd probably get my butt out of bed earlier more regularly. Probably.
** I'm not fooling anyone, am I? But I'd probably get my butt out of bed earlier more regularly. Probably.
stinking willie
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 January 2024].
A Jacobaea vulgaris (also known as ragwort, common ragwort and stinking willie) I photographed in Jo and Becky's backyard in Cotton End while sitting Meg and Mog in August 2022.
a nice pear
singapore graveyard flower
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 1 December 2023].
Whilst staying with my uncle and his partner in the southern suburbs of Brisbane, shortly after arriving in Australia in June, I ventured out to purchase various devices I lacked.
I had never needed a UK-to-Australian adaptor outside my Apple travel kit, but I relied on a Windows laptop from my day job on this visit. I also needed a replacement cable for my iPhone to feed into my Apple adaptor as my existing cable was lightning to lightning, not lightning to USB, and the adaptor was many years old.
All that is beside the point, really.
The point is that I walked from my uncle's to one of the three plus shopping centres "nearby" (all were at least a 20-minute walk) to get such items, and I took my camera, foreseeing that I could capture something of the local area.
My uncle was somewhat sceptical of what I might find to photograph along the way. Which was, in fairness, understandable. Except my idea of photogenic is often not the same as others’.
These and other flowers I photographed in parkland near my uncle's home were more traditionally photogenic. But, had I not had my camera with me, I wouldn't have captured them (well, I would have, with my phone, as I did, but not at the same quality).
The odd thing, though, has been coming back to these photos months later, knowing they are frangipanis and having Wikipedia tell me that Australia recognises a different tree as a frangipani.
This genus is the only frangipani I know as someone who grew up in Canberra, Brisbane, Darwin, Melbourne, country Victoria, and later in life lived on the Gold Coast, and I photographed these in a park in Sunnybank Hills, Brisbane.
We had what I believe to be a plumeria obtusa on the nature strip at the front of the house we rented in Darwin. I remember the fragrant flowers and climbing into its branches to lounge whilst listening to Madonna's album, Like a Virgin, playing from the cassette player I'd fed out my bedroom window onto the table on the balcony.
I looked up where our house used to be in Rapid Creek (or Nightcliff, as we knew it to be at the time), and though the house is long gone (I already knew this from previous searches of former homes), I'm pleased to say the frangipani tree was still standing in 2021.
firethorn
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 26 November 2023].
I'm mixing things up a bit with a new Friday* series, fruitful, a series of photographs I've taken of fruit that complement two of my other series: a floral tribute and the fungus among us.
These berries are on the Pyracantha plant, commonly known as firethorn, and I photographed them overhanging the back fence of a home that backed onto Pondwicks Meadow in Amersham Old Town.
According to Wikipedia, the English have used firethorn to cover unsightly walls since the late 18th century.
Its thorns also make it an attractive and organic form of home security.
*I try to share photos from these series on Fridays, but sometimes they're belated. But I usually share them on social media the following Friday as part of #FloralFriday or #FungiFriday. This new series will fit the #FruityFriday theme.
the old contemptibles
[I originally posted this entry as early access for my Patreon patrons on 21 November 2023].